


The Nerve

by ryrowentz (othellokink)



Series: Violent Things [ABANDONED] [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco, The Brobecks
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Weddings, brendon is a pining mess, cause i love to suffer, kidding but it's in the past, locally grown angst, rarepairs, ryden if ya squint through ya pretty odd vinyl, vast majority of the characters are cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10474458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/othellokink/pseuds/ryrowentz
Summary: Come celebrate with us,the wedding ofGeorge Ryan Ross IIIandDallon James WeekesBrendon couldn't think fast enough to cover up the fact he choked when he read that."You're getting married?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, I wrote a basic ship for y'all. I literally died while writing this. Coming at you from the grave.  
> I'm not a Ryden, by any means, and I don't cry listening to Pretty. Odd., so I doubt I'm qualified to be one even if I wanted to. I didn't suffer at all writing this. Anyway, thanks to the Danger Gays squad for encouraging this when my Ryllon ass mentioned it as a joke, and then having no choice but to deal with it while I yelled in the chat about it. Hope y'all are happy with what you helped bring into existence.  
> Big thanks to angelboyfrnk for dealing with my shit grammar to beta this.  
> Title taken from The Brobecks.

The doorbell had rang approximately five times in the last three minutes before Brendon finally decided to force his ass out of bed to go see who the fuck was urgently trying to wake him up at nine in the morning.

He considered just going to answer the door, naked as he was, out of spite, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted any Jehovah's Witnesses or poor mailmen calling the police on him for public indecency. The doorbell rang a sixth time. “I’m trying to get some pants on, chill out!” he shouted, in the general direction of the door, then proceeded to nearly fall down the stairs at least twice as he struggled into a pair of boxers on his way down. 

He opened the door, mumbling obscenities under his breath and running his free hand through his hair that he was sure was a mess at this time of the morning. “Yea-” 

His voice kind of just died in the middle of the word, and he just stared at his visitor for a few moments, trying to work out if this was actually happening. For fuck’s sake, this guy had abandoned months of planning for Coachella, just to avoid him, and now he was casually showing up on his doorstep at near inhumane hours of the morning.

Ryan gave him an easy smile and pulled his sunglasses off, instead using his hand to shield his eyes from the rising sun. “Morning, Bren. Brought you breakfast,” he offered, holding up a paper bag in his other hand. 

Brendon’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t capable of processing this three minutes after he’d woken up. He just stepped back behind the door and motioned him inside. 

Ryan didn’t hesitate, strolled right through to Brendon’s kitchen, with him in tow, albeit very confused. He set the bag down on the table and pulled two subs out, set one down and pulled a chair out for Brendon. He set the other down on the opposite side of the table and went to the cabinets to get glasses. Poured juice for Brendon, water for himself, and then sat down across from him. 

It was like he’d never stopped feeling Brendon’s house was his second home. 

He laughed, actually seemed amused when Brendon was just staring between him and the food he’d got for him. “You can eat it, it isn’t rotten or anything, I just bought it on my way over here. Figured it’d be quicker than you having to make breakfast yourself.”

Brendon, though his head was still tilted down slightly, looked up and locked gazes with Ryan. “Okay.. But why?”

Ryan just shrugged, and around a bite of his own sub, said, “Just thought it would be nice.”

xo

Breakfast passed with Ryan chatting away like they were old friends, Brendon chiming in only occasionally, favoring staring at Ryan like an alien. Hell, maybe he was an alien. Invasion of the bodysnatchers, and Ryan’s replacement hadn’t gotten the memo that he and Brendon were broken up, didn’t really speak. It made more sense than any of the other alternatives Brendon was able to come up with. 

Brendon was beginning to think he may have made a mistake letting him in at all when Ryan asked him if he had plans for the day. His brain didn’t catch up with him before he said ‘no’, and received a grin in return while Ryan was cleaning up the table. “Awesome, go get dressed.”

When he came back downstairs, adorned in more than yesterday’s boxers, thank god, he found Ryan leaning on his entertainment center, flipping through an old, well worn magazine with an article about Fever in it. At a loss for anything else to say when his guest didn’t look up at his entrance, he blurted, “That sure was a long time ago, huh?”

Ryan still didn’t look up when he flipped the page, but Brendon could see his grin. “Yeah. We made quite the pair back in the day, didn’t we?” he answered, voice absent of the remorse Brendon was straining to hear there. He seemed to really look back on it fondly, and for a moment, Brendon wasn’t sure why he couldn’t entirely share that feeling. 

There was a warm smile on his face when he closed the magazine and tossed it down onto the coffee table to look back up at him, and Brendon couldn’t tell if his heart was freezing or melting. “So, do you have anything specific you’d like to do with the day, or are you completely at my mercy?”

“Uh. It’s too early for the beach, so I guess I don’t have any ideas.” He awkwardly rubbed at the back of neck. To his credit, he kept eye contact.

Ryan shook his head. “It’s never too early for the beach. Grab your stuff, I’m gonna go start the car.”

Brendon trekked up the stairs, for maybe the seventh time that morning, wondering what the fuck was going on. 

Rather than go through the trouble of changing his clothes again, he just shoved his swim trunks and a few towels in a bag and grabbed his sunglasses before heading outside. Ryan was grabbing his own beach gear out of the trunk of his car and tossing it over the backseat for easy access, and Brendon almost burst out laughing. “You’re bringing your guitar to the beach?” 

Ryan’s head popped into view around the back of his car and he raised an eyebrow enough that Brendon could see it over his sunglasses. “Are you implying you’re not bringing yours?”

They engaged in a staring contest through their respective lenses for a good fifteen seconds before Brendon shrugged, “Fuck it,” and returned to his studio to grab it. 

He had to admit, it was amusing to watch Ryan make absolutely no effort at all to stay on key while he sang along to the songs that played on the radio, and still managed to sound alright. 

If the universe he was currently in was his own, and he actually hadn’t accidentally fallen onto an alternate plane last night, (which was a scenario he was genuinely contemplating), he decided it was out to fuck with him. Because, of course, of course, Death Of A Bachelor had to start playing. He recognized his own voice almost as soon as it started spilling from the speakers, though it was drown out a little under Ryan’s higher pitch right next to him, and it was quite possibly the best thing he’d ever heard.

Even just singing along to the radio, a song three albums after he left the band, Ryan sang it like it made him happy. He sang like their roles had finally been reversed, and now it was him and Brendon’s words were something he wanted to put his soul into bringing to life. 

xo

_He was still riding on that bouncy, adrenaline filled, post-performance high when he noticed. Ryan, Spencer and Jon were all huddled together with their heads bowed, like they were praying, except Brendon could hear them mumbling to each other. It seemed odd to him since they still had a curfew to meet and they really should all be packing up their things and loading up._

_He strolled on over to them and clapped a hand on each Ryan and Spencer’s shoulders, still rocking on the balls of his feet when he enthusiastically informed them, “Come on guys, worship later, pack now. I’ll help you without complaining this time, I swear.”_

_The forlorn looks he received in return were nothing like the tired, fond eye rolls he’d been expecting. Spencer nodded at him once before he headed off to start loading his kit into the bus’ storage compartment. Ryan and Jon fiddled with their instruments for a few moments before closing their respective cases and heading off in the opposite direction._

_“Guys, the bus is this way,” Brendon informed them, with a gesture over his shoulder, his voice still cheery, if a bit confused._

_There was a brief second of reluctancy before Ryan and Jon turned back around to face him. It was definitely clear that they were not anywhere near the same cloud nine Brendon was currently experiencing._

_“Brendon..” Jon spoke slowly, holding up the hand that wasn’t holding his guitar in the universal sign of caution. He could tell by the look that came across Brendon’s face that he was starting to understand what was going on._

_“Brendon, we’re not coming with you,” Ryan’s input came much faster than Jon’s had, but his tone was the audio equivalent of what it felt like to have a bandage torn off a surgical wound._

_“When are you meeting back up with us?” Brendon was clinging to that last shred of hope, he had to be misunderstanding this. Jon and Ryan were just staying in the city for a few days and then they would-_

_“We aren’t.”_

_Ryan and Jon had been exchanging pained glances, but it was Jon who stepped up and took that one. It seemed like they were a unit on this, completely in sync with each other, with the fact that they were just leaving, and Brendon felt like his heart was no longer in his chest._

_“No, no, that’s fine, because this isn’t happening, this is just a nightmare, and in a few minutes Ryan is gonna wake me up, and I’m gonna be in a mess of blankets in my bunk, because I know for a fact there’s no way either one of you could even think it was okay for you to leave without at least having the balls to tell me goodbye!” He was pacing back and forth in front of them, hands waving around like crazy, and though the statement was directed at both of them, he locked eyes with Ryan._

_Ryan was pretty sure he could see at least four of the seven stages of grief flash through Brendon’s eyes in that moment, and just for a second, he considered calling it off. He could stay, they could make it work, as a band, they’d done it before. Anything to get that look off Brendon’s face, like he believed he the best thing that had ever happened to him was ready to say, “It’s been fun, but I have to go now,” and walk away._

_Then again, Ryan supposed, in Brendon’s eyes, that might be exactly what was going on._

_He set his guitar case down on the ground and took a few steps towards him. “You’re right,” he said, and he would deny it if anyone were to ever ask him again, but he didn’t try to hide the tremble in his voice, or the way he approached Brendon with caution, like he was afraid what might happen if he got too close, if he was reading things wrong and Brendon was more angry than upset._

_He couldn’t imagine anything making Brendon’s stomach knot the way his was at that second. He would want to maim anything that would hurt him like that, and he couldn’t believe it was him that was capable of it._

_“You’re right,” Ryan repeated, voice much more steady, more sure of himself this time. For a second time, he almost buckled, almost said “Fuck it, I can deal,” when he heard a muffled intake of breath and looked up to see Spencer behind Brendon, bent down to bury his sobs against Jon’s neck._

_For a moment, he felt like time was standing still. The universe was just pausing, giving him a chance to look around and actually assess what he was giving up. Spencer and he had been best friends for as long as he could remember, and he’d fallen hard and fast for Brendon back when he was still just a geeky kid with glasses, drinking out of juice boxes and excitedly pulling all-nighters on Pete Wentz’s couch._

_And again, for just a split second, he shook himself, wondered if it was worth it._

_“We should have run this by you,” Ryan heard his own voice and realized he was talking without thinking, and there was no way to go back now. “I should have run it by you,” he corrected. No use in dragging Jon any deeper into this mess than he already was. “I guess I just figured it would hurt less if we just got out of here.”_

_Brendon huffed a laugh and shook his head. “What was your plan? To just sneak out of the venue and never speak to me again? Who the fuck was that supposed to hurt less, me or you?”_

_Ryan swallowed hard. “I said you were right, Brendon. I’m sorry.”_

_Had the stars aligned properly, had this been any other situation, any other time, Ryan might have found it cute, the way Brendon looked this he was itching to start throwing punches while there were tears streaming down his face. “What the hell is this, Ryan? Five years, you’re done now, it’s been great, but now Panic! is over?”_

_He took a few steps towards Brendon, tried to wipe his tears away, just to have one last memory of him, something to hang on to and remember that, yeah, Brendon had loved him, too. Maybe rightfully, he didn’t get it. Brendon slapped his hand away and took a few steps back, as if Ryan even being near him was burning. “Answer me!”_

_“I’m not saying this is forever! I just don’t think we’re working as a band right now, and-”_

_“No. This is forever,” Brendon’s tone had turned to ice through the tears still on his face, and it made Ryan’s blood stop in his veins. “This is forever, Ryan. If you walk out, then this becomes our band. Mine and Spencer’s, and you don’t get to come back. You don’t get to do this to me, to either one of us again. Do you understand that?”_

_An ugly emotion reared it’s head in the back of Ryan’s mind, telling him to spit fire back at him. Panic!, something Ryan had put his entire being into for years, didn’t get to belong to someone else just because they were pissed off at him. It was his fucking band._

_Ryan pushed it down, had to take a moment to fully swallow his pride before nodding. If he had to move on and leave his life in someone else’s care, there’s no one he’d rather it be than Spencer and Brendon._

_“Yeah, I understand.” He looked back over his shoulder at Spencer, now muffling his own cries behind his hand, as Jon had rejoined Ryan on his side of the room. A few glances between Spencer and Brendon, and he nodded again. “I’m really gonna miss you guys,” As he bent down to pick up his case and slipped out the door._

_It took Brendon at least five minutes to process it. Five minutes that were spent with him silently staring at the door Ryan and Jon had gone through, before he turned around and collapsed against Spencer’s chest. “Oh god, what did I just do?”_

xo

All things considered, Brendon really didn’t think it was fair that Ryan got to step back into his life and melt his heart so quickly, but it wasn’t like he was doing anything to try to stop it. Not unless flopping in the sand next to him and spending what had to be a few hours listening to him play guitar and sing softly, more to himself than Brendon, counted as trying to stop him from getting the opportunity to tear his heart out again.

He was a grown man, goddammit, he should know better than this by now.

He must have dozed off at some point, cause it was after one in the afternoon when Ryan gently shook him awake. “Hey, you wanna actually go swimming, or do you wanna go get lunch?” 

Brendon propped himself up on his elbows and blinked at him a few times before giving a half-hearted shrug. “Lunch sounds good. Where do you wanna go?”

Ryan had stood up by then, and was holding a hand out, which Brendon took, to haul him to his feet as well. “Anywhere you want. I’ll buy.” 

xo 

“I should probably go.”

Brendon yawned lifted his head off Ryan’s shoulder to glance at the clock on his phone. “You can stay the night here, if you want, it’s after midnight, and I don’t know how far away you live.” 

He didn’t realize how desperate that statement actually sounded until Ryan shook his head. Really, Brendon wasn’t trying to be desperate, and he wasn’t exactly looking to hop back into bed with him after years of minimal to no contact, but...

Part of him still loved Ryan, he regretted it, sure, but he knew it was true, and that part of him, locked away in a metaphorical cell at the back of his mind, surrounded by signs proclaiming, “Don’t go there,” and “Turn back now,” had escaped, and was spreading itself all over every other part of him. Granted, the other parts of him were just shaking their heads at his hope that he’d maybe get Ryan back someday.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m not too far away.” He stood up and stretched. Brendon pretended not to stare at Ryan’s shirt riding up and his pants slipping down, and Ryan pretended not to notice. Ah, just like old times. 

“Today was actually a lot of fun. We should hang out more,” The statement wasn’t meant to be offensive, the way Brendon was rubbing his eyes told Ryan that his mouth was working faster than his brain, so he just smiled at him in response. 

“We should. Actually, I came to ask you something?”

Brendon schooled his face into casual curiosity while Ryan searched the pockets of his jacket, quietly questioned, “Hm?” As if his heart wasn’t trying to beat out of his chest. 

Ryan made his way back over to the couch and handed Brendon a card, then sat back down next to him, but facing him this time. 

_Come celebrate with us,_  
the wedding of  
George Ryan Ross III  
and  
Dallon James Weekes 

He couldn’t think fast enough to cover up the fact that he choked on air when he read that.

“You’re getting married?”

When Ryan started to reply, he held his hand up to indicate he wasn’t finished and shook his head. There had been a lot of times Brendon had been disbelieving that something in his life was happening, but this was pretty close to topping the list. “You’re marrying Dallon? As in, my Dallon?”

“My Dallon, actually,” Ryan corrected, but he was using that voice that made Brendon feel like he was about to be comforted. 

“No one even bothered to tell me you two were dating.” His throat was dry, at least the last five years flashing through his mind. He figured there had to be signs, at some point, now that he knew to look for them.

The remorse over Panic!’s break up that Brendon had been yearning to see from Ryan was on his face now. “I think you know why that was.” He made the statement slowly, then rushed into his next statement. “Dallon was going to give you the invite, but I thought it’d be better coming from me. I want you to be my best man, Brendon.”

They locked gazes, and Brendon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You want what, now?”

“I want you to be my best man,” Ryan repeated. The remorse had come and gone in a flash, and he was getting way too excited about this in Brendon’s humble opinion. “Spencer is gonna be Dallon’s, I want you to be mine.”

He stared at him quietly for the time it took his brain to grasp what was going on. Of course Ryan could be giddy about this while Brendon felt like it was tearing him to pieces. It was Ryan’s wedding.

Brendon had to repeat that mentally about six times before it sunk in. Ryan was getting married. 

“Let me think about it, alright?”

He didn’t miss the way Ryan’s entire posture relaxed when he didn’t explicitly say “no”, but this whole day had gone from dream-like to draining in just a few minutes, and he couldn’t find it in himself to comment on it. 

“Of course,” Ryan replied, maybe a little too quickly, then stood up and headed for the front door. “Call me, alright? You’ve got my number?”

Of course he had Ryan’s number. He’d just never been able to force himself to use it. So, he lied, “I’ll get it from Spencer,” and had closed the door and retreated to his bedroom by the time Ryan waved goodbye at him from his car.

xo 

“You fucking asshole! I got completely blindsided today by none other than Ryan Ross bringing me breakfast this morning, and actually had a great day with him. I was enough of a dumbass that I was about to make a move, and but thank god I only got as far as asking him to stay the night with me, in my home, like an idiot, because he’s fucking engaged, which I was unaware of. Oh, by the way, my ex-boyfriend is marrying our bassist, and this isn’t news any of you thought I ought to be privy to, but hey, congrats on making the wedding party, Ryan just asked me to be his best man!”

Spencer sat up on the couch, if only to keep his balance and hold the phone away from his ear while Brendon screamed at him from the other end. “I know you’ve got that whole lungs-of-a-singer thing going for you, but have you considered taking a breath in between your sentences?”

His voice was thick with sleep, which only served to agitate Brendon more, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a solid two minutes of both of them just breathing into their phones, Spencer flopped back down and pulled his blanket up over his chest. “Is that all? You got it out of your system now? Cause it’s like,” he paused long enough to find a clock, “Three in the morning, and I’d like to go back to sleep, if that’s good with you.”

He heard Brendon swallow and respond in a much calmer voice. “It’s only one.”

“I’m in Chicago,” he answered blankly. 

“What are you doing in Chicago?”

Spencer sat up again at the trace amount of venom that was back in Brendon’s voice. He stretched out when he stood and padded down the hall for water, since this was clearly gonna be a conversation that he wasn’t getting out of that easily. 

“Beginning my long, promising career in pole dancing.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping from his own voice, though he was actually surprised he could put that much emotion into anything at this hour of the morning. He took a sip of his water and shrugged to himself before finishing, “I’m visiting Jon, what the hell do you think I’d be doing in Chicago?”

“Dallon is marrying Ryan, you’re taking secret trips to Chicago, is there something I’ve done that you guys have decided to stop telling me what’s going on in your lives?” 

All the way across the country, Spencer could practically see Brendon’s lip trembling in that way it used to when he was determined to get what he wanted, and so he bit back a sarcastic comment, lest Brendon actually start crying. 

“I didn’t use the band’s funds to fly out here, I didn’t think I needed to run it past you. And judging by you calling to scream at me about Ryan, here at ass o’clock in the morning, I think you can deduce why Dallon was a bit on the hesitant side to inform you of his current marital status.”

The line fell dead again. Spencer took sips of his water and waited silently. Just when his drink was gone and he was starting to think Brendon had hung up or passed out, or something, his whispers came across the line, quiet enough that he could barely hear it. 

“Are they happy together?”

“Yeah, Bren. They’re happy.”

xo 

‘Regretregretregret,’ kept playing over and over on a loop at the forefront of Brendon’s head as he dropped himself into the backseat of Dallon’s car. Ryan glanced at him in the mirror and snickered, Dallon turned around and pulled his sunglasses down to examine him before laughing himself and nodding as he slid them back into place. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Lay off.” Brendon grabbed the handle on his the ceiling of the car and shifted around until he was comfortable. He knew he looked like shit - he hadn’t slept in almost 36 hours, he felt like shit, - he didn’t need his so-called friends making comments about it.

As much as he figured he would come to regret this, he shifted in his seat again, forward, to grab Dallon's shoulder. “Wake me up when we get there? I've got a migraine.” 

Dallon nodded at him in the mirror and hummed his affirmation, and was even nice enough to keep his mouth shut when Brendon audibly flopped back on the seat. 

He still felt like he'd been hit by one, or possibly a few buses when he blinked his eyes open. Ryan was turned around, up on his knees in his seat and had one hand on his shoulder, and Brendon was quiet for a few seconds while his brain caught up with him and he had mind to straighten up in his seat.

“Mmm?”

No one could really tell through his aviators, but it just felt like Dallon was watching them. Brendon followed his hand until it met the one Ryan had just removed from Brendon’s shoulder, and placed a styrofoam cup in it. 

He was hit with the blessed scent of coffee when Ryan handed it to him around the seat. Initial instinct told him to slam it, but he could feel the heat coming through, so that may not be the best idea. He settled for closing his eyes and sipping at it while he listened to something shaking in the front seat. 

Dallon reached back and bumped his neck with his fist, then dropped a white capsule in his hand. “It’s Tylenol,” he explained when Brendon gave him a confused glare. “You look like you could use it.”

Though it ended up being more at the ceiling, since that's where his gaze was focused at the moment, rather than on either one of the, Brendon smiled. “Thank you,” he mumbled. As he got comfortable again, and his eyes dropped down to where Dallon's fingers intertwined with Ryan's, he was maybe a little surprised to find he still meant it. 

xo

They hadn’t even gone to pick up their things from baggage claim yet, and Spencer and Ryan were already so tangled up around each other in their greeting hug that Brendon was actually watching for them to start making out from the corner of his eye. After immediately deciding to shake off that thought, he turned around to see Jon and Dallon doing some intricate handshake before falling into an easy conversation. 

Favoring it to the friendly, almost make out fest between Spence and Ryan, he joined them, hands shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” He was thankful to hear that his voice came out somewhere between blank and casual, rather than bitter. Really, he had no personal issues with Jon, other than, you know.. It wasn’t his fault the most important people in his current life had been going behind his back to hang with his past, he was a little upset.

“Yeah, Ryan introduced us!” Jon responded, smiley and enthusiastic as ever. Either he hadn’t picked up on Brendon’s aversion to the situation (not likely) or he was going to make up for it by being doubly cheerful (much more probable). “How have you been?”

Jon had a way of rubbing his emotions off on other people, which hadn’t been an asset whenever he’d gotten upset. This time though, despite his efforts, it wasn’t long before Brendon found himself smiling back at him. “Uh, a little shocked, actually,” he answered honestly. “I wasn’t aware that Ryan and Dallon were-”

The others approached them, Spencer’s arm around Ryan’s waist, Ryan’s around Spencer’s shoulder, and each of them holding up luggage in their free hands. “Shall we go get lunch and then get Jon and Spencer settled back into the west coast, gentlemen?” 

“I was only gone for two weeks!” Spencer protested, shoving at Ryan’s hip with his own, but he was grinning. The action threw them both off balance, not enough to knock them over of itself, but enough that Ryan ended up pulling Spencer down on top of him when he fell trying to catch himself. 

Trying to help them up was a mistake. Brendon didn’t miss the brief, sly glance they shared when he offered his hand to Ryan and Dallon offered his to Spencer, but he didn’t get enough time to process it before he was on top of Ryan, one leg tangled around Dallon’s who had joined him on the floor a second later. 

Jon was too busy doubled over, laughing his ass off to offer to help them up. Dallon glanced back over his shoulder at Spencer and Ryan, then at Brendon, and grinned, stretching out slightly to kick Jon’s feet out from under him. 

It was enough to get him to stop laughing. Everyone fell silent when he sat up and glared at Dallon for a few moments before his hard expression cracked and he burst out laughing, the rest of them following suit. 

xo

_“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” Brendon didn’t look at Ryan when he asked, maybe out of fear of the answer, but he’d deny it if he was asked. He was grateful for his shirt, providing him a distraction, to get the question out while he removed it before sitting down and wiggling his arm behind Ryan’s back._

_He’d gotten completely comfortable before Ryan answered, if you didn’t count the lump in his throat at the thought that he might not. He was snuggled against his side, arms wrapped around his waist and head on his shoulder, watching him flip through a magazine._

_“I don’t think gay marriage is legal in Nevada.” Ryan still didn’t look up. His voice sounded blank, distracted, but after he turned the page he was reading, he shifted to put his arm around Brendon’s shoulders, so it could definitely be counted as a win._

_Brendon turned his gaze up at Ryan, the angle making it look like he was trying to give him puppy eyes. “We don’t have to get married in Nevada though, do we?”_

_Ryan dropped his magazine back into his lap and looked down at Brendon, raising an eyebrow. “Is there some place else you would like to get married?” His voice was still pretty blank, but there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips, which pretty much equated to amusement._

_“Well, I don’t know, I would like my marriage to be fully legal and recognized,” He replied with a shrug of his shoulders. His expression wasn’t exactly serious, but it was casual enough until he dissolved into giggles when Ryan wiggled his eyebrows and asked, “Why would you want that? Done living on the dark side?”_

_Eventually, when he felt he could speak and look Ryan in the eye at the same time without starting to laugh again, he shrugged again. There was a dopey smile on his face when he locked eyes when Ryan and shook his head. “No, definitely still there. I would just want it to be official, and everyone to know that I was yours, and no one else got to love either one of us, cause we love each other. No one could question it.”_

_The arm wrapped around Brendon slid down to his waist and back up. He continued the motion while he got comfortable, leaning his head back against the seat, not looking at Brendon but smiling._

_“Alright, so. This hypothetical wedding of ours. What would you want to do with it? IF we could do anything?” At Brendon’s curious look, caught out of the corner of his eye, he continued. “You know, location, wedding party, stuff like that.”_

_There was no way Brendon was hiding the way he perked up, no matter how hard he tried. Ryan’s arm tightened around him a little, forcing his to squirm out of his grip to face him before letting him settle it back around his waist._

_“Is it too cliche to say it’d be cool to get married on the Eiffel Tower?”_

_Ryan looked as though he was contemplating it for a moment before nodding. “Absolutely. But I would definitely go for it. Back up plan?”_

_“Jon and Spencer could definitely be our best men and-”_

_Ryan wasn’t sure he liked the way Brendon’s voice trailed off and his face lit up. He was glad something had made him happy, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what it wasn’t._

_“Ryan! We could get married on stage! Like at the end of a tour, get married on stage before a show, how cool would that be? To get to share that with our fans.”_

_Shifting away from Brendon uncomfortably, Ryan cleared his throat and tried to stand, suddenly claustrophobic. Not like he could do anything about getting off the bus, going eighty on the highway, but he really needed to be out from under Brendon._

_Brendon gave him a hurt look from the couch, but let him go without trying to pull him back down. “Ryan?”_

_He paced the small aisle between the front of the lounge and the back for a few minutes before he slowed to a stop and leaned back against the table across from Brendon. “I think you know I couldn’t do that, Brendon. That’s you, sharing your entire life, it isn’t me, I couldn’t put something as personal as my wedding on a stage, I can barely talk about my issues through you in song lyrics.”_

_It was cautious, the way Brendon unfolded himself and stood, the way he reached out to take Ryan’s hand like he was a coaxing a wounded animal. “Hey,” he said, voice soft as he fitted himself against Ryan, waited for him to relax before continuing. “It could be anywhere, with anyone. None of it would matter, as long as I was marrying you.”_

_He didn’t have a ring on him, but if he did, he would have pulled it out right then. It would have to wait until the next time they stopped. Granted Ryan said yes, oh god, would he say yes? Well, of course he would, but w-_

_Ryan let out a breath and nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know.”_

_xo_

_The sound a sniffling outside his bunk is what woke Spencer up. He tried to ignore it for about five minutes. By then he figured if he didn’t open up and let Brendon crawl into his bunk with him, he would just stand outside crying all night, and that never went over well with Zack. He’d tried it before._

_Reluctantly, he turned over and yanked the curtain back, nodded his approval for Brendon to climb in. Neither of them said anything, but Brendon tucked himself against Spencer, his head under his chin. At least he’d passed sobbing and seemed to be trying to compose himself._

_“You can cry on my shirt all night if you really want to, but it would really be preferable if you told me what was going on,” Spencer mumbled, hugging one arm around Brendon’s back and rubbing softly between his shoulder blades._

_There was a few minutes of complete silence. Brendon wasn’t shaking anymore, and Spencer closed his eyes, thinking Brendon had cried himself to sleep, ready to drift off himself. That’s when Brendon spoke._

_“I proposed to Ryan.”_

_Now that woke Spencer up quicker than any amount of caffeine ever could, and that's saying something on tour. He held back his initial reaction of, “You did fucking what?!” but just barely._

_“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” And yeah, he probably could have worded that better, but he was possibly in shock. Brendon and Ryan were two of his best friends, he had assumed that if one of them was making wedding plans, he’d be privy to the information._

_Brendon laughed softly, but he still seemed like he was ready to burst back into tears at any moment. “Uh, no. I am pretty sure I go rejected.”_

_“Pretty sure?”_

_“He said he didn’t know. I feel like I got rejected.”_

_Under other circumstances, maybe, something could be read into there, in the way that Brendon snuggled and clung to Spencer. Maybe he could have meant something when he asked, “Can I come stay in your bunk for a few days?”_

_Then again, he was Brendon, so probably not._

_Despite himself, Spencer laughed as he shifted around Brendon’s body to get comfortable. “Are you aware of the fact that our bus is big enough, and even if you never use it, you do have your own bunk? You don’t have to hide in my bed to avoid Ryan’s.”_

_When he looked down, though, Brendon was giving him tired looking puppy eyes. He sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, fine, alright. But two days, max. These bunks weren’t made for two people.”_

xo 

Spencer could tell what Brendon was thinking about from across the room. He wasn’t exactly proud of it, but he could. Hey, he’d lived with the guy for practically his entire adult life. 

“You’re brooding,” he commented around a mouthful of pizza. He didn’t seem particularly invested in it, of course, cause he made no move to get out from under Jon’s arm to walk over and comfort him. 

Brendon, visibly snapped out of his daydream to glance at Spencer, offended. “Hey, I am not!”

When everyone else in the room commented, at once, much to his dismay, “Yes you are,” Brendon sank down against the back of the couch, muttering, “Traitors.”

In what he had lately been glad to make his true fashion, because no one fucking told him anything anymore, Brendon straightened up and decided to turn the attention on Spencer and Jon. “So,” He began, leaning forward to grab another slice of the pizza off the table for himself. “Since when are you two a thing?”

Spencer shrugged in return, reaching up with one hand to lock his fingers with Jon’s where they hung over his shoulder. “On and off for a few years, I guess.” 

Jon was giving him a look that was more amusement than affection, but Brendon didn’t miss the way he squeezed Spencer’s hand when he was speaking.

“And here I was thinking that you were crying cause you were having a secret affair with Ryan.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Ryan pulled the throw pillow out from behind his back and threw it at Brendon’s head. “Friend break ups are totally worth crying over!” But he was laughing, so Brendon didn’t take too much offense. 

He did throw the pillow back though. “Oh, really? I didn’t see you crying that night.” 

The room fell silent for a second, and Brendon was hit with the crushing weight of the light mood making an exit, but after a moment, in which everyone just seemed to stare at each other from their respective places in the room, Ryan threw the pillow at him again. 

“And again I say, fuck you.”

“He was bawling his eyes out after we left,” Jon laughed and dived part way behind Spencer to dodge the pillow Ryan threw at him. 

“Yeah, like you didn’t shed any tears!” Ryan protested, though he, maybe surprisingly, didn’t look upset. He looked amused. Jon opened his mouth again, but Ryan yelled, “Shut up Walker, I’m running out of pillows.”

Brendon was able to dive out of the crossfire, barely, before Jon threw the pillow back at Ryan, nearly hitting him in the head. He ducked behind Spencer’s other side, looking up at him with puppy eyes. “Protect me?”

Spencer reached out with one hand to pet Brendon’s hair reassuringly. Not that he had any plans to admit it at in point in the near future, but Brendon may have closed his eyes and leaned into it a little, which is why he didn’t expect it when he felt a pillow smack him over the head. 

“Sorry Bren, every man for himself.”

xo 

By the time Ryan’s living room had completely dissolved into a pillow warzone, Spencer had grabbed Brendon’s hand and snuck him out the back door. When he leaned up against the railing on the back deck and looked him over, a very confused Brendon raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I don’t smoke anymore and neither do you,” he commented, though it came out like a question. 

“Sure we do, that’s just got what we came out here for.” Before Brendon could interrupt him, Spencer shook his head, raising his voice a little in an attempt to get Brendon to take the hint and shut up. 

“I know what you were thinking about in there. You’re the worst person I know at hiding that shit, it was written all over your face. He doesn’t know, Brendon, and you can’t tell him now.”

There was no use in denying it. Even if Spencer didn’t have that tone that said he wasn’t about to take his shit, he was right. Brendon sighed and leaned forward to rest his arms and forehead on the railing. 

“What do I do then? Spencer, I-”

“You don’t do anything! He’s getting married, okay? You missed your chance, you’re too late, let him be happy!”

“I think I still love him,” Brendon finished, but his voice was soft. He didn’t even know if he wanted to admit it out loud, as if not saying it would make it untrue. 

“For fuck’s sake Brendon, I love him, too! He’s been one of the most important people in my life for as long as I can remember, you think I don’t care about him? I want him to be happy. You don’t? Is that really so hard for you?”

The words made Brendon flinch, even as the fire behind them disappeared. Spencer looked tired, like the whole situation was draining him, a stark contrast to how lively he’d been a few moments ago, when he was laughing and throwing pillows with the rest of them.

There was a stretch of silence. Both of them turned to look out over the railing rather than each other, not that there was much to see with how dark it was in Ryan’s back yard. 

“Don’t ruin this for him.”

Wordlessly, Brendon took the few steps over to Spencer and leaned his head on his shoulder. He nodded when Spencer wrapped his arm around his shoulders, returned it around his waist and sighed. Without looking at him, he replied, “I won’t.” 

He was quite a bit more shocked than he probably should have been when he felt Spencer turn and press a kiss to his temple. He was less shocked than he could have been when he turned his head to look at Spencer, honestly just to look at him, and ended up tilting his head up to press his lips against his. 

The kiss was met with more reception that he was expecting. Less than three seconds into it, Spencer had turned to face Brendon, and Brendon was using the arm he had around his waist as leverage to tug himself tighter against Spencer.

Much to his own surprise (and Spencer’s, by the look on his face) when they pulled apart, instead of slapping Brendon like he was pretty sure was warranted at this point, Spencer turned and him and pressed him up against the railing. After Spencer crowded him there and they’d stared at each other, breathing hard for a few seconds, Brendon hopped up to sit on the rail, pulling Spence closer with a leg around his waist and tugging him down into another kiss. As if this whole turn of events wasn’t confusing enough already, Spencer willingly stepped closer, and held his leg there around his waist, he free hand going to Brendon’s lower back to pull him minimally closer.

Fuck.

xo

“Stay over at Ryan’s house with most of your ex-band members, Brendon, it’ll be fine, what could go wrong?” 

It had been probably an hour since everyone else had gone to bed, Ryan and Dallon in the room they were apparently sharing, Spencer and Jon curled up together on the couch despite Dallon insisting that they could have the third bedroom. Brendon on the other hand was pacing back and forth across in the grass just of the deck in the back yard, in nothing but his boxers. 

After his not so covert make out session with Spencer, that he was not going to publicly acknowledge ever, thanks, everyone had settled down, and Brendon was unfairly expected to act like a normal person until they all went to bed. Now it wasn’t like he could freak out to Spencer about that, like he normally would everything else. Maybe he could pull of freaking out to Dallon, but then he’d have to mention that he was making heart eyes at his fiance, and that wasn’t something he was about to do.

Eventually, he had settled on sneaking out the back door and calling dialing Patrick’s number over and over. By the fifth time he hit ‘send’ it occurred to him that maybe Patrick wasn’t awake at the lovely hour of four in the morning over wherever the fuck he was on the other side of the country.

He was about to hang up and dial Pete’s number instead, ‘cause he was convinced Pete would probably claw his way out of the grave to answer a phone call, but the dial tone cut off in the middle and was replaced by a low grunt.

“I kissed Spencer. Why the hell would I do that? I literally just found out he’s dating Jon, and has been for years, and Spencer looks like he wants to throw down with me approximately every five seconds cause I apparently can’t stop staring longingly at Dallon’s fiance. By the way, Dallon and Ryan are engaged, but hey, you probably knew that, because fucking everybody but me knew that already. 

And Spencer pulled me outside to tell me that I need to quit doing that, and I get him wanting Ryan to be happy, I want him to be happy too, and I just kissed him! I fucking kissed him, what’s wrong with me? Not even like an innocent friendly kiss, full on, legs wrapped around his waist making out in the dark kissed, and he didn’t stop me. What the hell?”

There was quiet from the other end of the line, for a moment causing Brendon to think that Patrick had hung up, but he could hear breathing and what could have been chewing, so he waited impatiently for a response. 

After another moment and Patrick audibly swallowing and shifting positions, a voice that, though not entirely unfamiliar, Brendon couldn’t quite place, responded, “Well. Fuck, dude. You’ve certainly had quite a night haven’t you?”

Brendon was shocked into silence for all of three seconds at the fear that he may have just dumped all of his problems on an unsuspecting stranger. He had enough sense to check that he had actually dialed Patrick’s number, before near yelling into the phone, “Who the fuck is this and why do you have Patrick’s phone?”

“He’s in the shower and I can only listen to the same thirty seconds of ‘Toxic’ so many times. After four tries, I figured if someone didn’t answer, you’d just call again, and I love the dude, but his ringtone is driving me nuts,” Mysterious-Patrick-Phone-Wielding-Guy answered.

He paused in his pacing and snickered a little. Of course Patrick would do something so obnoxious and annoying as unironically having Britney Spears as a ringtone, and everyone would love him all the more for it, because he was Patrick. He was like a fairy or an elf or something. Everyone who came into contact with him fell instantly in love with him. 

“Yeah, sounds like Patrick,” Brendon thought aloud. He made his way, rather blindly, to the steps and took a seat. It was nice to rest his head against the cool wood on the deck and have a reprieve from the constant internal panic he’d been experiencing for the past few hours. “You never told me who you were.”

“Daddy long legs.”

“I already know where Dallon is, try again.” 

Mysterious guy on the other end burst out laughing, and Brendon smiled. It wasn’t Patrick, but whoever this was had a pretty good handle on making him chill out. Going back in the house didn’t seem like a task that made him want to vomit anymore. 

“It’s Mikey,” the voice on the other end answered once he quit laughing, but there was still amusement laced in his tone. “I think I heard the water shut off, if you wanna talk to Patrick. I’ll take the phone to him.”

Brendon sat up and sighed. After a few minutes of quiet - he knew Mikey was waiting for answer rather than just taking the phone back to it’s rightful owner - he shook his head. It took a few more seconds for it to occur to him he had to affirm that out loud, but he then he was nodding instead. 

“I’m okay. Uh, sorry for dumping on you, man. But thanks for not hanging up or whatever.”

“No problem. You can probably get my number from Pete if you don’t already have it, in case you need to yell about your various make out adventures in the middle of the night again. Talk to you later,”

Brendon waited, listened to the sound of a door opening and Patrick’s muffled voice asking “Who was on the phone?” before there was a click informing him that Mikey had hung up.

He sat out on the back porch for probably another twenty minutes before he actually got up and went back into the house, sliding the door closed behind him as quietly as he could. Instead of heading up the stairs, he padded across the living room and sank into the recliner that was across the the couch Jon and Spencer were snoozing on.

A few minutes in, which he spent staring at the wall and listening to Jon’s snoring and Spencer’s breathing, something soft landed in his lap. He raised an eyebrow at nothing in particularly and shook out what seemed to be a blanket. 

“Night, Brendon.”

“Night, Spence,” he responded quietly.

xo 

“Have I recently mentioned how much I hate flying?”

“Several times, Gabe, thank you.” There was no venom in Ryan’s voice, but Brendon still looked up at raised an eyebrow at where Ryan was adjusting Gabe’s jacket for him.

He walked over to join them, holding his arm up to inspect the colors of their suits. Not that he didn’t know they’d be vastly different - with all the colors going on in this wedding, Brendon was a little surprising that Dallon and Ryan themselves weren’t dressing in rainbows. 

Brendon’s suit was a deep blue, Gabe’s was royal purple. Though they were all mocking it endlessly, it was pretty clear that everyone had liked the idea Dallon had come up with. Ryan’s groomsmen would be dressed up and lined back from him in blue, purple and hot pink to form his bi flag, and Dallon’s would be in different shades of pink, green and blue to form his poly flag. 

Dallon and Ryan themselves were wearing traditional black suits, but their ties matched the flag theme. The amount of pride that had been at that photoshoot was a little overwhelming, but all and all, it had been fun. 

“So, may I ask the lovely grooms, what’s the point of having your wedding photos done before your actual wedding?” Pete asked, shimmying out of the hot pink jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“So that we can have the photos at the reception,” Ryan answered. 

“And the, uh, neon wedding party suits? I feel like I'm at an ‘06 Cobra concert,” Joe chimed in with a curious of expression of his own. 

“We only plan to get married once in our lives,” Dallon retorted, pausing to maneuver his head out of the loop of his tie. “So, we may as well go out all. 

Brendon turned his attention back to Ryan, only to quickly avert his eyes when he realized that he was unzipping his pants. It probably wasn’t anything he had to feel odd about - they were all grown men, and it wasn’t like there was anyone standing in this group that he hadn’t already seen completely naked. He should be able to handle Ryan, the fiance of one of his best friends, in his boxers. Then again, he found himself turning away when he noticed Spencer shimmying out of his pants as well.

“I think you just want pictures of you kissing Pete to be at your wedding,” Gabe teased, leading Ryan to snap him with the pants he’d just taken off. “Ow, you fucker! Leather hurts!”

Ryan rolled his eyes and blew a kiss at the red mark he’d left on Gabe’s bare stomach. “Yeah, like I could get away with leather pants at a wedding with as many vegans as I’m inviting. I’m lucky you agreed to come after I told you there would probably be milk in the cake.” 

“I’m full of surprises, Rossy!” Gabe grinned, turning Ryan around and wrapping his arms around his neck to plant a sloppy kiss on the side of his face. To his credit, Ryan only crinkled his nose and smacked at Gabe’s arm. 

After Ryan had changed back into casual clothes, which could be noted as being jeans and one of Dallon’s t-shirts, that was just big enough on him to be noticeably not his own, he returned to his favorite position of hanging under Dallon’s arm and nuzzling into his shoulder. 

Dallon placed a kiss to his temple and opened and closed his hand a few times, his way of reaching for Ryan’s hand with the arm slung over his shoulder. He threaded their fingers together and squeezed his hand while rocking them back and forth slightly and watching everyone else still changing out of their clothes. 

“You wanna have everyone over tonight?” He leaned down a little to mumble in Ryan’s ear.

Ryan smiled and shook his head. “Mm, no, not everyone. Spencer and Brendon have pretty much taken up residency in our living room while we plan the wedding, and Jon kind of comes as an extension with them.”

After he nodded, both of them fell silent for a few moments. Dallon couldn’t see him from the angle he was at, but he could feel Ryan’s smile where his head was laid against his shoulder. When Ryan started laughing, he felt it more than he heard it, but regardless, he lifted his head off his and turned his gaze down to him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Ryan turned to meet his gaze, smiling that smile that at this point, Dallon was positive put the sun to shame and brought a peaceful end to the wars of the world. “Dallon.”

“What?” He repeated, a smile spreading across his own face, because Ryan’s happiness made anyone around him want to be happy too.

“We’re getting married tomorrow!”

Dallon burst out laughing, his giggles mixing with Ryan’s and actually dipped him for a second. When he pulled Ryan back up, both of them were still giddy, laughing quietly into each other’s mouths’ when they kissed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

xo 

“What’s the matter, Wentz? Too delicate for the grass nowadays? Protecting the integrity of your hot pink tux?” Even as he teased him, Gabe walked up and plopped down on the blanket next to Pete, in the shade of a tree outside the hall they’d rented for everyone to get ready in and hang out before the wedding, which was taking place at a beach nearby.

Pete lifted his head for Gabe before promptly dropping it back down on his leg. “Gerard is holding my fiance hostage to perfect his make up, and if I got grass stains on these pants, Spencer would murder me before anyone else got a chance.”

Gabe snorted in response and leaned back on his forearms. 

Despite the fact that he was already wearing aviators, he shifted his balance to shield his eyes when he saw two girls approaching them. 

“Mind if we join you boys?” Breezy gave Gabe a warm smile. 

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at the other girl, who he had absolutely never met before. He’d honestly thought Breezy was still with Meagan. “Who’s your friend?” He asked, putting that emphasis on the word that made it clear he was noting the way their joined hands were swinging between them. 

“Oh! This is Elizabeth. Z, this is Gabe Saporta and Pete Wentz.” The two girls took a seat on the free space of the blanket, their backs to the sunshine. “Ryan introduced us when he invited Meg and I to the wedding, and we all kind of hit it off.” 

The light blush that crossed her face was cute, even if no one had really pegged her for the polyamory type. If she and Meagan were happy with their new girlfriend, good. It sure looked like it. 

“What about you, where are your friends?” She asked when Z laid her head against her shoulder. 

Gabe sat up the rest of the way, giving a smirk to match his raised eyebrow when he noticed the matching lift in tone on the word friends. “Honestly? Travie is probably in the shower, and Will is probably still in bed. I had to get here early so I could challenge Dallon to a duel for Ryan’s hand, but he hasn’t shown his face yet.”

Pete snorted and bolted upright, then to his feet. “Call me before that duel takes place, I wanna grab some popcorn and make out with Frank in the back row of that show.”

xo

Brendon leaned back up against a tree, just cause it was currently cooler than the hot brick of the building, and offered more shade, observing everyone, cataloging who was here, who he knew and who he didn’t. 

He had expected the guys from Fall Out Boy to be here, because of course they would be. Why shouldn’t they be. What he hadn’t been expecting quite so much, or at all really, was them to be hanging off the arms of the guys who’d once made up My Chemical Romance.

Patrick was holding Mikey’s hand, and okay, considering the phone conversation he’d had recently, he could have seen that one coming. But Joe had his arm around Ray’s waist, and Andy and Gerard were all but laying down and cuddling in front of everyone, what with all the loose side hugs and quick kisses they kept stealing. He was pretty sure he saw a ring on Frank’s hand where it was wrapped loosely around Pete’s arm.

“Fuck. Where have I been?” 

“Busy with planning a wedding, probably.” Spencer’s voice snuck around the tree, followed by Spencer himself, and consequently scaring the shit out of Brendon. “It’s not all that hard to miss, it’s not like any of them are exactly broadcasting it.”

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked since Brendon had decided it would be a fun activity to shove his tongue down Spencer’s throat, it was just that Brendon tried to avoid thinking about it, and that got harder when Spencer was any closer to him than three feet. 

Spencer leaned up against the tree next to him so that their shoulders were touching, because he was a sadist like that and was thriving off the fact that Brendon was squirming. Brendon was sure that was it, what other explanation could there be?

“You’re avoiding me.”

The statement was simple, but to Brendon is felt like it had come out of nowhere. He should have seen it coming, and fuck, because he was. There was no point in denying it at this point. He’d been delicately dancing around everyone, but especially out of Spencer’s way ever since he’d stuck his tongue down his throat.

Honestly, he couldn’t think of a response. 

A few minutes of silence passed between them. Brendon’s mind, which had been racing in approximately a million different directions at once slowed to a halt when Spencer pressed away from the tree. He felt the brush of the movement against his shoulder and looked up to see Spencer nodding towards the open door of the hall. 

“You better go.” There was sadness in his voice, and something underneath it that made Brendon’s empty stomach sour. Betrayal. Great, he was losing Spencer now, too. “Ryan’s calling you.”

Just like that, Spencer had disappeared into the growing crowd of people. Brendon found himself trying to track him, but couldn’t hold onto the thought for more than a few seconds. Anyway, his feet had carried him over to Ryan before he had realized it. 

Ironically, that felt like a safer bet for the moment anyway.

xo

Jon held his hand out to Spencer and spun him around in some uncomplicated dance-y looking move that probably actually took a lot of practice before crossing Spencer’s arms across his torso and gripping onto both of his hands. It was a stretch to lean his head into his neck, and going up on his toes like he usually did was just not a practical option in the shoes he was wearing. He settled for resting his cheek against his shoulder blade and swaying both of the gently.

Spencer fell easily into the rhythm of Jon’s rocking, letting his head drop back to rest on top of his after just a couple of seconds. 

“That looked like it was horrid,” Jon stated the obvious, because someone had to. He wondered when he’d become the band parent for a brief moment before realizing that he couldn’t be the band parent without being of the band. It was only saddening until Spencer squeezed his fingers lightly. He still had that.

When he’d finished relishing in the peaceful feeling that came with Jon plastering himself against his back and wrapping his arms around his waist, Spencer spoke. His tone was soft, not so much because he had something to hide from the people around them, though that was certainly part of it, but more because he didn’t want to ruin the moment by being harsh.

“Only as well as could be expected, Jonathan.”

The smile Spencer could feel pressing against his shoulder through his shirt was in Jon’s voice when he replied, and Spencer realized that if they were as they would stay, he would be happy. He was happy. 

“What do you want to do about it?”

Not for the first time, he really considered how lucky he was, not only to have Jon, but to have Jon be incredible enough to help him plot to try and get Brendon into their relationship. For all their efforts, it wasn’t panning out. Of course, he cared. He loved Brendon, and he had for as long as he could remember, but he loved Jon. There was no getting past that. 

He lifted his head as he shook and turned around to face Jon. 

“Nothing. He still wants Ryan. Pining has never gotten any of us anywhere.”

xo

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Brendon watched the people milling around outside through the window. “I think Dallon and Gabe are fighting,” He mumbled, turning around at Ryan’s amused snort of “Probably.”

Ryan was glancing up at him through the mirror while he tried - and failed horribly - to adjust his tie properly. 

Brendon smiled and crossed the room, motioning for Ryan to drop his hands. “Let me get that, before you accidentally end up with a noose.”

Ryan did as he was told and let his hands drop to his sides. He leaned back on the vanity he’d been looking in and tilted his head back so Brendon could work. “I can’t believe I’m actually getting married today.” 

Brendon hated the way that sentence made him cringe. He wanted to be happy for Ryan, he wanted this wedding to go smoothly and Ryan and Dallon to live long, happy lives together, he wanted to want that for them. He just didn’t. 

After barely biting back the response, “Yeah, me either,” he stayed silent until Ryan’s tie was tucked into his jacket and he’d managed to take a step back. He admired Ryan for a few moments before the silence had him lifting his head up and opening his eyes to meet Brendon’s gaze. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Brendon was almost able to shut himself up when he noticed the blissful expression that had been on Ryan’s face for, oh, probably since Brendon had agreed to be a part of his wedding. Almost. 

In a rush, he blurted, “Can I tell you something?” and immediately regretted it. 

Ryan’s expression dropped into one of concern, and he nodded. “Of course, Bren. Why wouldn’t you be able to tell me something?”

That could be it. Brendon could drop the subject, make up a lie, he could not ruin this, possibly the most important day of Ryan’s life. But he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t. 

“Do you remember a few years ago, on our last tour before Pretty. Odd.?” Ryan nodded, so he continued. “Do you remember what I said after we were discussing places we could get married, legally, and places we would want to?” He searched for recognition somewhere on Ryan’s features, but received only another nod, and he really didn’t want to spell this out. 

“Ryan, that was me asking you to marry me.”

The entire atmosphere of the room actually shifted, Brendon was pretty sure of it. Ryan was still, silent, just staring at him. After a few minutes of agony, and Brendon considering fleeing to join the wrestling match outside, Ryan finally spoke. 

“Okay.” 

It was all he said. Brendon wanted to throw up. Or pass out. He could feel his face heating up, couldn’t believe he’d actually been full of himself enough that he’d just managed to ruin the wedding of not one but two of his best friends. Spencer had been right, this wasn’t supposed to be about him, he was just supposed to be happy for them. 

“Ryan, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Spencer told me not to tell you, and especially on your wed-”

“I said it’s alright. Breathe.”

Brendon deflated. He stared at Ryan. Trying to hold his gaze without bursting into tears kind of currently felt like an olympic sport Brendon had forgot to prepare for. “Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ryan didn’t sound as defeated as Brendon did, but the content bliss that had become his new tone ever since he’d walked back into Brendon’s life wasn’t there either. 

Do not, do not, do not. 

“Tell me that it changes things.” Even Brendon was so appalled at the fact he’d actually said that, he had to physically stop himself from covering his mouth.

Ryan leaned forward a few inches and held one arm out. When Brendon didn’t give him his hand, he flipped his own hand over and motioned for it, locking their fingers together when he finally understood. He pulled Brendon closer to him so that they were only a few inches apart and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t.”

He stood up when he noticed tears falling down Brendon’s face - this time it was him having a flashback to that night - and wiped them away. “Don’t do that. That’s not fair, and you know it.” He stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for a response. Brendon mumbled an apology, and Ryan could tell he was genuinely trying to stop himself from crying, so he wrapped one arm around his waist and let him lie his head on his shoulder. 

“It doesn’t change things,” He repeated. “Not now.” They both stayed quiet for the next few minutes, Brendon clinging to Ryan like he should have the first time he wanted to leave him, and Ryan swaying slightly, trying to calm him down without having to say anything. 

He was still staring out the window when he spoke, Brendon looked up to make sure. 

“If I had known back then that you were asking that of me..” He paused, inhaled, sighed. Brendon didn’t like the way he shook his head and refused to look at him. It made him uneasy. “Maybe it would have been different. Maybe we would be married and we’d still be making music together, and we’d have moved out to California together and lived on the beach, but maybe we wouldn’t have. I honestly can’t promise it would have ended any differently. I was 20 years old, Brendon, I wasn’t ready to get married, to you or anyone else.”

Shut your mouth, Brendon, you’ve done enough damage already, don’t say it. 

Brendon pushed down the voice in the back of his head - morals, as most people called it, he could hear some vague voice of one of his past band members mentally inform him - cause now he had to know. “You didn’t want to marry me? Ryan, I love you!” He only realized he was yelling after he stopped, and hopped the betrayal in his voice didn’t carry to whoever might be able to hear them outside. 

“I know. I loved you, too. Brendon, I was a kid. We both were, you know that. And I’m not saying that there was never a possibility we could have made it, ‘cause.. God, Bren, I loved you with my entire being, you know that, you have to. We could have taken over the world together.

But that was almost ten years ago. Our band broke up in 2009, and you refused to speak to me for years. Hell, if I hadn’t shown up on your doorstep and asked you into my wedding, would that wall of no communication still be standing?”

Brendon pushed himself away from his chest. It didn’t feel right to be in a shouting match while crying on the guy’s shoulder, even though it was honestly all he wanted to do at that moment, just cling to Ryan like it was the last time he’d ever be held by him. It could be, that irritating voice of logic whispered, making his stomach turn. “That isn’t fair, you’re the one that did that, not me!”

Ryan finally turned to look at Brendon. He looked hurt, and again, Brendon wished he could take it back. But Ryan still didn’t look broken, or like his life had changed with anything Brendon was saying to him. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. 

“I left. You’re right, that’s on me. But you’re the one who, for months, refused to answer my texts, or emails, or calls, or acknowledge me in anyway, so I’m sorry that I gave up short of allowing you to physically slam a door in my face when I was trying to tell you that I was sorry and I still loved you. Please forgive me.”

The way Ryan ended it, the tone of his voice. Realization hit Brendon like a brick wall, Ryan was actually asking for his forgiveness for the fact that he was getting married. He froze, then backed up a few steps like he had been burned. “Ryan, I’m so-” 

He stopped when Ryan held up his hand and shook his head. “Don’t apologize again. I know we both have shit we did that we regret. The fact is, I love Dallon. I’m going to walk out the door, and I’m going to get marry him today. And I would really like it if you still wanted to be a part of that.”

There was a few seconds where the only sound was Brendon’s uneven breathing. Once he settled, he nodded. “Yeah, if you still want me to be a part of your wedding. I would be honored.”

Ryan gave him a surprisingly bright smile considering what had just gone down. “Good. Now come to the bathroom with me to I can wash your face, it’s all red from you crying.”

xo

In the true fashion of the Californians they were not, Ryan and Dallon hosted their wedding on the beach, and in the true fashion of the DCD2 members they were, the groomsmen had picked them up without warning and thrown them into the water after they said ‘I do’. Though they’d both made it abundantly clear that they would not be amused at that turn of events - because they knew their friends, and they knew what they were planning - they emerged soaking wet but laughing, stealing kisses as they waded back to shore. 

After an ambush and pushing them and a few other innocent wedding-goers into the sea, well.. No one left the ceremony dry.

The reception was hosted on the same beach, but a few hours later. The guests and grooms had changed from their soaked formalwear, into casual clothing or swimsuits, or various combinations of both at once. 

“So, are you going to mope all night or are you going to talk to him?” 

He did, but Brendon didn’t have to look up to know it was Ryan who had snuck up behind him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders while he plopped down on the sand next to him. He followed Brendon’s line of sight to where he was watching Spencer and Jon dance together, then looked back and him and quirked an eyebrow. 

“Look, I know that Spencer’s been, like, defending my honor or some shit while you made heart eyes at my ass, or whatever it was you were doing, and I know that you guys defiled my back porch.”

Despite himself, Brendon snorted. He leaned his head against Ryan’s shoulder and relaxed. In a way, he was glad for their fight before the ceremony - it was a huge weight off him to know that he didn’t have a chance. There was still a dull ache somewhere in his chest, and he had a feeling there would be for sometime, but.. Two very important people to him were happy. He was happy for them.

He shook his head. 

“We kissed-”

“You almost fucked.”

“We kissed,” Brendon insisted, shoving at Ryan’s shoulder absently. It wasn’t enough to make him move. “And it was nice, but he was just trying to get me to stop crying over my fruitless quest for you. He was just being a good friend, I guess. Look at him.” He gestured to where Spencer and Jon were slow dancing in the sand near the water. “They’re so happy together.”

He gave him a heavy sigh, and then the weight of his arm anchoring Brendon was gone. Ryan was in front of him then, kneeling in the sand, one hand on each of his shoulders. “I need you to look me in the eye and really listen to what I’m about to tell you. Like, actually take this heart.”

Brendon gulped, just because no matter what they were, Ryan was always going to have that influence on him. He nodded when it occurred to him he wasn’t going to continue without acknowledgement. 

“Stop being a dumbass.” Before Brendon could protest, Ryan shook his head. One of the hands resting on his shoulders lifted to cover his mouth. “No, listen. Step back for a minute and realize that you are not the entire world. Other people have feelings, too, Bren. Both of them love you, and if you could get your head out of your ass long enough to talk to people instead of actively avoiding things that you decide are easier left alone, you would see that.”

Brendon was at a loss for words, but that didn’t seem to matter. Ryan was straightening back into a standing position and ruffling his hair, and then he was gone, returned to the celebration. 

xo 

It wasn’t that Brendon had never thought about it. If he was honest, he spent probably too much of his free time daydreaming about what what events could lead to or take place if he was romantically involved with any of his bandmates, past or present. Regrettably, even Brent, though that particular can of worms never failed to make him shiver in disgust, so he decided it better to leave it.

He’d never been led to believe that anything serious enough could develop between any of them for it to be a possibility for him with anyone with Ryan, if he was honest. 

Ryan was right, though. Right and fucking married. And Spencer had been in front of Brendon the entire time, and he had never seen it, so Spencer had made himself happy elsewhere. He swallowed thickly, pushed down the thought that he seemed to be missing that with a lot of the people he fell for these days. 

It was late and the party was winding down. He had to run barefoot across the pavement and practically jump in front of their cab, but the past few weeks had left him with the unsettling feeling that if he didn’t do things right when he felt them, he would never get the chance again.

Ignoring the unamused look thrown into the back seat by the driver when he opened the door but didn’t get it, Brendon leaned heavily into the taxi and shot an accusatory glare at Spencer and Jon. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

Neither one of them said anything, but twins expressions of recognition flared on their faces. They knew what he meant. Of course they did. 

No one spoke. The driver cleared his throat. “You gettin’ in or what? Meter’s runnin’, kid.”

Brendon’s gaze didn’t falter, but softened. “Can I come home with you guys?”

Jon and Spencer exchanged a look.

They both held out their hands.

xo 

Ryan held his hand out to Dallon. It was dark enough at this point in the night that were it not for the reflection of the moon on the water, he didn’t think he would be able to see it. He extended his arm and took Ryan’s hand in his own, keeping hold of it when he wrapped his arm around his neck. 

They were the last ones to leave, though that probably made sense. It was their wedding after all. Ryan stumbled to the side a little, dragging Dallon along with him to walk in the shallow water that the tide brought in and took out with it. 

The two of them walked in silence, the best kind of carefree, simple happiness just from being near each other, from being wrapped around each other, until the lights remaining from their party faded in the distance. 

“I love you, Dallon Weekes,” Ryan said softly. He wasn’t looking directly at Dallon, rather their reflected silhouettes in the water. 

It was twisted by the waves, but Dallon’s reflection smiled at him, reached up for his own reflection, and there was Dallon, turning his head and planting a soft kiss against his lips. 

“Let’s go pack for our honeymoon, Ryan Weekes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not meant to claim any of the names or brands in here or any of that jazz, other than the weeks of work I put into this excessively long joke.


End file.
